“Pooh! that was the old woman, you know.  She persuaded me to take them for you.  I got them for next to nothing.”

“That was odd; you have been out, then, too?”

“Yes, and I saw you; you were walking with Emma Ravn.”

He understood at once, by the tone of her voice, that this was not permitted, but all the same he said, “Yes; how sweet she is! so fresh and candid.”

“She!  Why, she had a child before she was married.”

“Emma?  Emma Ravn?”

“Yes!  But I do not know who by.”

“Do you know, Angelika, I do not believe that,” he said solemnly.

“You can do as you please about that, but she was at the pension at the time, so you can judge for yourself if I am right.”

He could not believe that any human being could so belie themselves.  Emma’s eyes, clear as water in a fountain where one can count the pebbles at the bottom, rose to his mind, in all their innocence.  He could not believe that such eyes could lie.  He grew livid, he could not eat, he left the table.  The world was nothing but a delusion, the purest was impure.

For a long time after this, whenever he met Emma or her white-haired mother, he turned aside, so as not to come face to face with them.

He had clung to his relations:  their weak points were apparent to every one, but their ability and honesty no less so.  This one story destroyed his confidence, impaired his self-reliance, shattered his belief, and thus made him the poorer.  How could he be fit for anything, when he so constantly allowed himself to be befooled?

There was not one word of truth in the whole story.

His simple confidence was held in her grasp, like a child in the talons of an eagle; but this did not last much longer.

Fortunately, she was without calculation or perseverance.  She did not remember one day what she had said the day before; for each day she coolly asserted whatever was demanded by the necessity of the moment.  He, on the contrary, had an excellent memory; and his mathematical mind ranged the evidence powerfully against her.  Her gifts were more aptness and quickness than anything else, they were without training, without cohesion, and permeated with passion at all points.  Therefore he could, at any moment, crush her defence; but whenever this happened, it was so evident that she had been actuated by jealousy that it flattered his vanity; which was the reason why he did not regard it seriously enough—­ did not pursue his advantage.  Perhaps if he had done so, he would have discovered more, for this jealousy was merely the form which her uneasiness took.  This uneasiness arose from several causes.

The fact was that she had a past and she had debts which she had denied, and now she lived in perpetual dread lest any one should enlighten him.  If any one got on the scent, she felt sure that this would be used against her.  It merely depended on what he learned—­in other words, with whom he associated.